


The Scrannel Trill

by AStudyInAlgedonics



Series: 221Bs [8]
Category: Laundry - Charles Stross, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF Sherlock, M/M, Sherlock Plays the Violin, aka the REAL Devil's Trill, lethal music, may be developed more later once Cachaemia is finished, the music of eldritch abominations from the vasty deeps, the other one was an elaborate hoax by the Laundry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStudyInAlgedonics/pseuds/AStudyInAlgedonics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 221B set in the universe of Study in Cachaemia (i.e., the Laundry Files universe). John is at risk and Sherlock is brilliant. Also late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scrannel Trill

**Author's Note:**

> For tumblr user thekatkrow, who prompted "Lovecraft"! Sorry, dear, that word is inextricably linked with this universe in my mind, so you get a 221B set in the multiverse of Study in Cachaemia. Ah well. 
> 
> As ever I own nothing.

The first notes of the melody - if it can be called that - are thin and high and bitingly shrill. John claps his hands over his ears and begins to chant under his breath, trying to keep the music at bay and not let it into his head, because he knows what _this song_ does.

_This song_ , if it sticks in his mind for a second, will summon things out of the vasty deeps to gnaw on his mind and brain: it’s the quickest ticket to Krantzberg Syndrome the Laundry has on record. He feels rather touched, in a sick and twisted way - the auditorium he’s trapped in is all kitted out as if for a crowd - of course it is, since there’s a big formal party here tonight where this song will be played again - and it’s like a concert just for him.

He switches to singing, but it’s no good when this music plays in your bones and resonates in your gut. It sounds like shrieking from unimaginably far away - _no, don’t think about it, don’t listen to it, for God’s sake, Watson!_ he chides himself.

Lower, richer tones intercede after a few moments of panicked singing, and John turns to see Sherlock ( _late!_ ) striding down the aisle, violin in hand. He plays an energetic song, driving the screeching back.


End file.
